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User blog:High Prince Imrahil/Never Forget
Headcanon dump* With Elessar still at war in the east and trying to broker peace with the Haradrim, he had little time to look after his young son. Thus Eldarion, for a few years, lived in Tirith Aear with Imrahil, whom he affectionately called "Uncle". Imrahil became like a second father to him, and when Eldarion inherited the throne, the aging prince was always his closest advisor. ------------ The rain poured down on Imrahil, the winds howling through the mountains like a legion of wargs. But Imrahil stood silently at the very top of Tirith Aear, gazing quietly at the rocky cliffs below him. The storm raged on, as massive waves crashed into the stone like orcish armies against a shield-wall. Thunder rolled in the distant hills, and for a split second, everything lit up with a flash of lightning. Water poured down Imrahil's face, dripping off his helm and cascading down his shoulders. He stood quiet and still, like a statue of a king of old, watching the distant water with fascination. It could all be so easy. One jump. That's all it would take. One swift motion, and he could escape all this forever. One jump, and he would reunite with his squire, with his old war friends, with his family, on the distant shores of Valinor. Imrahil could feel his heart swaying. What was there to live for anymore? Dol Amroth itself? Nay, The War was long over, and there were men far wiser then Imrahil to rule it in days of peace. The nobles, then? No, they would get along perfectly fine without an unskilled Prince meddling in their affairs. Imrahil took another step towards the battlements that separated him from the rocky cliffs. Yes... yes... It was from the sea that the line of Alquas had once come, and it was to the sea he would return... "Imrahil!" Imrahil jolted, whirling around in surprise. Standing before him was Prince Eldarion, Elessar's son. Imrahil was hit with a sudden pang of guilt - he was supposed to be this boy's mentor, and he was about to abandon him out of sheer self-pity. "It's raining quite a bit, Uncle Imrahil. Aren't you afraid you'll catch cold? You should really get away from the battlements, Uncle. I know you like looking at the water, but you might slip off. Imrahil felt a wave of shame come over him as the young boy stared back with innocent eyes. Eldarion was wrapped in a blue cloak, his coal black hair soaked in the pouring rain. "Yes, I suppose you're right." Said Imrahil, clapping his charge on the shoulder, "we should get inside before the storm gets stronger." The rain continued to pour as they slowly walked along the wall towards the staircase. "Uncle, why have you been so quiet today?" Imrahil sighed. "It's- well, I suppose you're old enough to know. You see, on this day, many years ago, something very sad happened." "How long?" "Sixteen years." replied Imrahil, gazing off into the cloudy skies, "You had scarcely been born." "So... what happened?" There was a moment of silence. Imrahil's eyes flashed for a moment with infinite sadness, as if living the event all over again. "I... I had a friend." Many things flashed through Imrahil's mind. The blood, the pain, the courage with which Travian confronted his own death. Imrahil willed himself to go further back in his memories, to the morning of that terrible day. "Time to wake up, sir!" "mgrfl." responded the ever-eloquent Imrahil. Travian chuckled good-naturedly, and leaned against the dresser. "I've already gotten everything ready for the ride today!" Exclaimed Travian, "the horses are all packed and ready to go! I can't wait to travel back to Travshold!" Imrahil grinned, feeling a jolt of joy and energy flow through him with the recollection of what lay in the day ahead. He leapt out of bed and threw open the sea-blue curtains. "Travian, somehow I think this is going to be the best day ever!" "I couldn't agree more, sir. Imrahil felt his throat constricting with the memory. But he had to say something. Eldarion deserved to know. "His name was Travian. He was my second-in command, my squire." The noble and his squire rode through the forest, laughing, talking. They were on there way to Travshold, for its annual Apple Festival. There were only a few guards, riding a couple yards behind Imrahil and Travian. They chatted and chuckled with the close friendship that fighting in the War had brought them. Guards, prince, and squire were so distracted, they didn't even notice a man dressed in a crimson cloak, lurking at the edge of the woods. "He... he tried to protect me." The Castamir Ranger leapt down from the tree without warning, his sword swiping at Imrahil in an instant. Imrahil used his fast reflexes to try and draw his sword and parry the blow, but his hand grasped at air. He had forgotten to strap on his sheath that morning. But there was no need. '' ''Without the slightest hesitation, Travian leapt from his horse in front of the sword. The Ranger's blade buried itself in the squire's shoulder, as Imrahil remained unharmed. The Ranger, with the element of surprise lost, fled into the forest pursued by the Swan Guards. Travian collapsed to the dusty road, holding his bloodied shoulder and wrist. "He... he did protect me. I didn't get hurt at all. But Travian..." The squire drew in his last ragged breath, then finally relaxed. "Travian... died that day. Sixteen years ago." "He sounds like a very good man." replied Eldarion, "I wish I could have met him." "So do I..." sighed Imrahil, "so do I..." They finally got inside, and walked down the staircase to the main hall. "Well, it was nice talking to you Uncle, but I'd better get going. Araval and I are going out fishing today, he says the rain makes it easier to catch them." Araval was the son of Faramir, the next in the line of Stewards, and Eldarion's best friend. He walked into the great hall in a green cloak. "Hullo, Lord Imrahil, Hullo Eldarion! Ready to go fishing!" "Of course, let's go!" He turned to Imrahil, "farewell, Uncle! I'll be home before dinner, I promise!" The Prince of Dol Amroth sighed, and watched the two boys run out of the hall side-by-side. He smiled sadly as future king and future steward laughed and talked, gazing after them until they disappeared across the causeway. "Farewell, young Eldarion." he whispered, "perhaps you shall have better luck then I." Category:Blog posts